The kitchen in Goodnight House is my second favorite place, outside of the master suite. It sits at the back of the house and is overly spacious. When it was built, it included two large double doors on opposite sides that could be opened up on hot days to let the breeze go through. It’s midsummer in Georgia now, and the luxury of central air-conditioning had been added to this house years ago, so the doors are now shut. But on early spring evenings or late in the fall, my favorite thing to do was swing those doors open, sit at the large kitchen island, and just sip on coffee while I listened to the birds and crickets.
When Coop and I were dating, he’d often come over after dinner and we’d sit out on the front porch and talk while watching the fireflies. Because my grandmother was hardly ever around, this often involved moving up to my bedroom, where we’d make out, or sometimes we’d just legitimately study. Regardless, we spent a lot of time together in this house.
Coop busies himself at the long counter that holds the stove, putting the ingredients for the pancake batter into a large bowl. I pull out my phone and dial Colleen. She picks up on the second ring.
“Are you on your way back?” she asks crisply, and I’m now more annoyed than I was just before I dialed the number.
“I’m coming back when I’m damn good and ready,” I snap at her, but I know she’s just doing her job and just being Colleen. I’ve paid her well over the years to be just like that.
“But Brad’s people are demanding an immediate meeting to make sure there will be no hiccups when filming starts,” she points out.
“I’m not sure I’m going to do the movie,” I tell her honestly. That’s definitely the way I’m leaning.
“Do you know how popular this movie is going to be?” Colleen asks me in a deadly serious voice. “It’s his most popular action series, and with the press circulating about you two, it’s going to set records at the box office.”
“And prancing around in a bikini or in my panties and bra is really all I’ll be doing,” I say dryly. At that, Coop’s head spins around and he gives me a cocked eyebrow. I smirk at him and tell Colleen, “My role is minimal. They can easily find someone else.”
“They don’t want anyone else,” she says firmly.
“Whatever,” I mutter, not ready to fight about this. I have something more important. “About two years ago, I was sent a letter from the town council of Newberry, Georgia. Their middle school had sustained fire damage and they asked for me to help with rebuilding costs, as well as some money to erect for a memorial to honor someone that died saving the children there.”
“You get requests for money all the time,” she says. “Daily, as a matter of fact.”
“So you don’t remember this one in particular?” I press.
“Sorry, Eden,” Colleen says. “But I’ll be glad to look it up. We keep records on all that stuff.”
“Don’t bother,” I say softly, letting that offensive amount just hang in the air. I look up and find Coop has turned to face me, leaning back against the counter and whisking pancake batter. “I know you sent a donation for five hundred dollars.”
“Yeah…five hundred dollars. What’s the issue?” Colleen asks in confusion and a little bit of frustration to even be dealing with something that she believes to be trivial. I know she’d rather be pressuring me about the movie deal.
I grit my teeth and try to maintain some level of calm. “The issue is that this was my middle school I attended and the request was from my hometown. I think I could have given a lot more than five hundred dollars. This should have been brought to my attention.”
“Eden, if I sent money to every single person who asked you, you’d have been bankrupt years ago. You can’t help or save everyone.”
“But I can sure as fuck prioritize them and help the ones that are important to me,” I snarl at her. “A very close friend of mine…his father died in that fire. I lost out on an opportunity to honor him because you didn’t give it much thought at all.”
Coop’s hand stills over the batter bowl and his eyes darken as he watches me.
Her voice is soft and contrite, but she doesn’t budge on her stance. “You don’t have time to review all that stuff, Eden. You’re a business. You have to make movies. Your staff screens the mail because as you know, you get hundreds of letters and emails a day. You have to rely on your staff to handle it.”
“But that’s just it…y’all fucked up a very important request, and I’m now sitting here in Newberry amid a group of people who hate me because I’ve offended them through your actions.”
“So you’re in Newberry.” Collen latches on to my slip of the tongue. “I could arrange a meeting with Brad’s people there if that would suit you.”
“No it wouldn’t fucking suit me,” I snap at her, and I’m so livid over her lack of empathy toward me for her colossal screwup I disconnect the call and slam my phone down on the counter.
Within three seconds, it’s ringing and I see Colleen’s name. “I’m pissed at you,” I snarl into the phone when I connect the call.
“And I’m sorry you were let down,” Colleen says, her voice filled with apology. “Clearly something important slipped through the cracks. I’ll figure a way to fix this so it doesn’t happen again. Now, if you’ll just tell me how much money you want me to send to make this right, I’ll get it sent out immediately.”
I sigh and my entire body deflates. “No, I’m sorry I was shitty to you. I’m just upset about it and you don’t have to do anything else on this.”
“You sure?” she presses.
“I’m sure. Let’s plan on talking tomorrow, okay?”
“Sure thing, Eden,” Colleen says, and she hangs up.
When I place my phone on the counter, Coop sets down the batter bowl, turns to the cupboard just to his left, and pulls out a bottle of bourbon along with two highball glasses. He doesn’t say a word but just saunters over to the island and pours each of us two fingers. He slides a glass over to me and picks his up.
I follow suit, cocking at eyebrow at him for explanation.
“You need this,” he says with a smirk. “Trust me on that.”
“I’ll still get pancakes, though, right?” I ask to make sure.
“You’ll still get pancakes,” he assures me, then taps the edge of his glass to mine. “Welcome back to Newberry, Eden.”
I sip the bourbon. He takes a slug and sets the glass back down on the counter before heading back to the batter he left near the stove. I watch as he cooks breakfast for dinner for us, and yes, I appreciate that Coop Mayfield has definitely filled out since we were together. His shoulders are broad and pull at the material of his T-shirt, and I have no doubt he’s sporting an amazing abdomen. His triceps flex as he dips a ladle into the batter, then pours it onto a sizzling griddle.
Age has treated him well. I’d have to say that at thirty-two, he’s the most gorgeous man I know, and I doubt anyone could take that title from him.
“So…you didn’t sound happy to whomever you were just talking to,” Coop says as he stands over the pan, spatula poised and ready to flip when it’s ready.
“That was my business manager, Colleen O’Hearn. She’s been with me ever since I moved over into acting.”
“How long has that been?” Coop asks, and it actually dismays me slightly he doesn’t know. I guess he never looked backward at me.
“About eight years,” I tell him. “I was getting too old for modeling and frankly, I was getting burned out.”
“Twenty-four is too old for modeling?” Coop blurts out as his head turns to me with surprise.
Laughing, I nod. “Yeah, the industry isn’t kind to aging. Particularly in high fashion.”
He turns back to the pancakes and starts to flip them. “How old were you when you did the Sports Illustrated cover?”
“That was one of my last modeling gigs,” I tell him. “So right around twenty-four, I think.”
“Well you sure didn’t look old then,” he mutters as he flips a pancake.
“You saw that issue?” I ask curiously.
“Well, yeah,” he says as he looks over his shoulder with a grin. “There wasn’t a man in Newberry that didn’t get a copy I think. And for the record, at thirty-two, you could still grace the cover in my humble opinion.”
And just like that, my esteem reinflates knowing that Coop has keep track of me somewhat, and that compliment right there tells me he still thinks I’m attractive. That’s a nice feeling to have, especially when I’ve been questioning all the things that are wrong with me that could have caused Brad to cheat.
I take another small sip of the bourbon and decide to ask something that’s been on my mind heavily. “Coop…what happened with the fire and your dad?”
Coop’s shoulders droop a bit from a silent sigh, but he turns from the pancakes and looks me square in the eye and with no hesitation. “He and I were working a crew over at the middle school, and he was around the back doing some trimming when he saw the smoke. Apparently it started in the cafeteria kitchen and spread across the back of the entire building.
I blow out a distressed breath. There are classrooms on the back to left of the cafeteria.
“He ran in,” Coop continues, glances at the pancakes, and then looks back to me. “Hell, we all did once we realized what was going on, helping to usher the kids out until the fire department got there.”
“You went in too?” I whisper.
“Our entire crew did,” Coop says with a wave of his spatula. “They’re all good guys.”
“What happened?” I ask, not wanting to know, but really needing to know. I had no clue Coop was there to witness this, and I’m horrified beyond the max to think of him being there.
Coop turns away from me, and for a moment I think it might be too painful for him, but he merely reaches into a cupboard to pull out two plates. He starts moving the cakes off the griddle as he talks. “Dad went back in one time too many. We were pretty sure we had everyone out, but the fire department wasn’t there yet. He wanted to make sure.”
“Did you try to stop him?”
Coop shakes his head, turns off the burner, and brings the plates to the kitchen island. He’d previously set out utensils, butter, and syrup. He pushes a plate across to me and doesn’t bother taking a seat, instead preferring to stand on the opposite side of me so we can maintain eye contact. He takes another slug of his bourbon, draining the glass with a hiss through his teeth, and then sets it down.
He starts to put butter and syrup on his pancakes, then answers my question. “I didn’t know he’d done it. I was on one side of the school helping teachers wrangle kids and make sure they were at their designated spots. Dad was on the other side, but if I knew he was going in again, I would have stopped him. But you know him, Eden…stubborn cuss. A hero to the end.”
My heart feels so heavy with sorrow I want to burst into tears. Coop Senior was the nicest man. Raised an amazing boy on his own who became my first love. For a clear moment, I have a wave of pure regret for ever leaving Coop, and thereby not returning to Newberry after college. I would have been happy here with people I respected and cherished. Instead, I got swept up in the most bizarre lifestyle that both brought me incredible joy, but also almost broke me on more than one occasion.
“They say he was probably overwhelmed with smoke and got disoriented,” Coop continues without me asking nosy questions. “Official cause of death was smoke inhalation.”
“It’s hard to make sense of,” I murmur as I stare down at my pancake. “An unfair waste of a good man.”
Coop gives me a smile that’s both sad and accepting at the same time. “It wasn’t a waste.”
“What?”
“There was a little boy he found who had gotten separated from his class,” Coop said softly. “He was unconscious but still alive. Dad got him out, and went right back in, afraid there could be more. He never came back out.”
My hand comes to my mouth and my eyes fill with tears. I suck in a breath and drop my hand. “Oh, Coop…I’m just so sorry. I know how close you were to your dad. I feel even more wretched about what happened when the town council reached out to me.”
Coop stares at me for a moment and I can’t guess what emotion I’m watching form in his blue eyes. Finally he gives me a smile as he pours syrup on his pancakes. “Hey, it’s all water under the bridge. But I think you should stick around. You clearly needed an escape, you’ve got the master suite, and I’m working most of the time so you’ll have the place to yourself. You can get some rest and relaxation.”
“It’s been forever since I took a vacation,” I admit wistfully.
When I left LA, it wasn’t with the idea of having any “me time.” It was pure escapism, but Coop has a point. I’ve got some appearances scheduled that can be moved or canceled, and I’m seriously doubting I’m going to do this movie with Brad. I’ve got to talk to my attorney about it, though, to see what kind of hit I’ll take. It’s a such a minor role and involves so few days on set that I doubt they can be too pissed if I back out.
And then my next big movie starts the month after that, with filming to take place in Europe.
“You know,” I tell him as I forego butter and just stick with syrup. I drizzle it over my pancake and say, “I think maybe I will stay for a few more days and just chill out. I could get lost in the master library and decompress.”
“Before you get too cozy,” he says as he cuts into his stack, scooping up a forkful, “want to go fishing tomorrow?”
“Down at the creek?” I ask as excitement courses through me.
“I’ve maintained the trail even though no one but me uses it,” he says with a devilish smile. “I could use some downtime too. We’ll pack a picnic. Make it a day thing.”
I tilt my head and look at him with curiosity. Just like that, we’ve slipped into easygoing conversation and we’re planning to spend time together tomorrow. I have no clue what this means, but I know it means something if the butterflies in my stomach are any indication.